


Between Affectionate Touches

by RavenXavier



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asexual Character, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, seriously this is super fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 18:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/788585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenXavier/pseuds/RavenXavier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times one of Les Amis kissed Enjolras affectionately as a friend (plus one time Enjolras kissed someone with definitely more than friendly ideas in mind).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Affectionate Touches

**Author's Note:**

> I can't seem to be able to stop writing fluff about them. I love these boys so much. When did it become my life ? 
> 
> I didn't have any beta, so I apologize for any big mistakes (don't hesitate to tell me about them), and I hope that you enjoy this !!

_**1// On the forehead** _

__

It was fairly late when Combeferre came back from Dr.Myriel's conference ; Joly and him had stayed after the initial presentation, hoping to have the opportunity to speak to the infamous man themselves. To their great delight, the doctor was very much willing to talk about their ideas on how to take care better of the patients in the poorest hospitals, which explained why it was way past-midnight when he opened the door of his flat. 

If he had lived with anyone else than his best friend, Combeferre would have assumed that his flatmate would be asleep by now. However, he  _did_ live with Enjolras and so he wasn't surprised at all to see the young man on the couch, his computer on his lap, a book in his hand, and a pen stuck behind his ear, looking as concentrated on his work as he has been when Combeferre had left earlier. 

"Have you even eaten ?" He asked, fondly exasperated. 

"Of course I did." Enjolras answered without looking up. 

"Was it one of these industrial sandwiches again ?" 

This time, his friend didn't say anything but his cheeks went pink and Combeferre rolled his eyes. Enjolras was great at so many things that many couldn't even believe that he was real, but all of his close friends knew how bad he was at taking care of himself. Combeferre, who had known Enjolras since they were toddlers, was so used to it by now that he had a hard time pretending to be frustrated about it anymore. 

"It's not important now, I suppose." He said. "What _is_ important is that it's one a.m and you have a meeting with your supervisor in seven hours. It's time you go to bed."

"I haven't finished this article yet." Enjolras protested. "It's important, too."

"When do you have to send it ?" 

"Next week."

Combeferre had barely opened his mouth that Enjolras was finally raising his eyes to look at him and straightening up, as if getting ready to fight : "I _know_ what you're going to say - that I can do it later, but I actually can't, because we have the rally this week-end, and..." 

"And you are going to bed anyway because I'm pretty sure than you have two free hours Thursday afternoon when you'll be able to do whatever you want." Combeferre said flatly.

Enjolras blinked.

"You know," He said, "if anyone else knew my timetable as much as you do, I would find this mildly disturbing." 

He didn't protest anymore, though, which meant that he must have been really tired indeed. Combeferre, once he was sure that his friend was really turning off the computer, went to his own room to prepare himself for the night. He was going to go to sleep when he realized that it should probably go check on Enjolras one last time. 

When he opened the door of Enjolras's room, the young man was indeed lying on the bed... with the book and the pen still with him. Combeferre sighed. 

"You're insufferable." He commentated out loud. 

"You're a tyran." Enjolras declared solemnly when he moved to confiscate the book. 

"Sleep." Combeferre ordered gently. 

"One day, I will rebel." His friend warned him. 

"And you'll be successful, I'm sure. Good night, Enjolras." 

He kissed him on the forehead softly, and Enjolras finally closed his eyes. 

"Good night, Combeferre."

  
  


 

_**2// On the cheek** _

 

Jehan was rather proud of himself to have managed to convince his friends to study outdoors. The weather was far too nice to stay in the library or even in the café they usually meet at. Everybody should be able to enjoy the sun, even students close to finals, he had argued and Courfeyrac had immediately approved (and when Courfeyrac approved of something, there wasn't much that the others could do to go again his wishes, anyway, a fact that Jehan was very well aware of). 

He was now comfortably sat against Enjolras. He was reading a particularly nice poem of Keats when his friend moved suddenly to try to reach one of his papers which had decided to fly away and actually finished his journey on Marius's face. 

Everyone laughed, except Enjolras, who frowned slightly, and a bemused Marius, who had been looking idly at the rare clouds on the sky and had yet to understand what had happened to him. 

"Can't we go back to the library ?" Enjolras sighed. 

"And leaving behind us all of that beauty ?" Grantaire exclaimed as if profoundly offended. "Who would prefer the cold bricks of humanity when Earth is offering you its loveliest green grass, its bluest sky, and a bright Sun to warm us all ? You cannot really be thinking of leaving the Sun, Enjolras, when you are yourself its human representation !"

There was a brief silence.

"... That would be much more moving if you were actually  _thinking_ these things." Feuilly remarked with a smirk. 

"Are you calling me a liar, Ginger ?"

 "I don't like to state obvious things like that." Feuilly retorted. 

"You are dead to me." Grantaire cried theatrically, moving closer to Courfeyrac who gave him a hug without being able to stop his snickers. 

Enjolras rolled his eyes at them but resumed his position with an apologetic look to Jehan, who snuggled against him once more. 

"I'm very glad you all accepted to come." Jehan whispered to him. "But if you really want to, we can go back." 

"Non-sense." Enjolras whispered back with a small smile. "You had a good idea, and everybody is enjoying themselves. I can handle a little bit of wind, I'm sure." 

Jehan's eyes tickled and he raised his head to kiss Enjolras's cheek. 

"Thank you. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, my friend." He said. 

Enjolras laughed. 

  
  


_**3 // On the nose** _

__

There was a certain ambiance among Les Amis, after the end of exams, that made Courfeyrac want to do crazy things ; Everything seemed so much brighter and happier when you knew that you didn't have to study anymore, really. It was the perfect moment to stop thinking seriously, which is exactly why, on that warm night of June, he reunited all of his friends at Combeferre and Enjolras's flat for a  _karaoke party_ _._

Everyone, except maybe Combeferre and Enjolras, clearly thought that it was a brilliant idea. Cosette, Eponine and Bahorel, who had the loveliest voices, were constantly asked to sing again. Feuilly, after two or three drinks, had started to accompany the music by making strange noises (Grantaire and Bahorel had filmed him gleefully for a while, because it was the kind of priceless blackmail that was always useful to have). Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta were self-proclaimed "back-up singers" but they kept forgetting to actually sing, enthusiastically making out instead. Jehan, sooner, had been fascinated by the marriage of Cosette and Eponine's voices and was now writing furiously, half-lying on the carpet. 

Courfeyrac was dancing with Marius. Or, at least, he was trying, but his friend was definitely too sober yet and protested an awful lot. 

"Come on, Marius, loosen up a bit !" He exclaimed, waving Marius's hands ridiculously in the air. 

Marius, half-laughing and half-whining, tried to escape his hold : "I'm horrible at this, Courf', you're doing this to mock me, you cruel man."

"I would never !" Courfeyrac huffed. 

And then, there were other hands on his hips and a warm breath on his neck. "Do you want a real dance partner, stranger ?" Grantaire asked, amused, in his ear. 

Courfeyrac, smiling broadly, turned around and grabbed his friend by the shoulders, bringing their bodies closer together. Bahorel had started to sing a loud, obnoxious song about some man left by "the love of his life". The rhythm was not the greatest, but Coufeyrac and Grantaire made it do anyway. 

Grantaire was very good, indeed. Still grinning, Courfeyrac glanced over his friend's shoulder and meet the very intense, almost  _cross_ lookof Enjolras, who was sitting a bit away from the others with Combeferre who was reading, of all things. 

"Oooh." He whispered. "That is new." 

"What is ?" Grantaire asked, who had his back turned to the two men. 

"Ha, you wouldn't believe me if I said, so don't think about it." Courfeyrac answered. "But you'll have to excuse me, I have to encourage our two leaders to stop being themselves for the night." 

"Good luck with that." Grantaire scoffed. 

They disentangled from each other and Courfeyrac went to his friends. 

"So." He said. 

"I will not sing." Combeferre immediately warned him. 

"Oh, I'm not here for hopeless causes." Coufeyrac answered. "Or, well, not  _that_ hopeless cause, at least. Anything you would like to talk about, Enjolras ?" 

Enjolras frowned. "I'm not singing either." 

"I'd already gathered that. You did seem interested in dancing, however." 

"Absolutely not." 

"Really ? But you were looking at us with such a..."

"Courfeyrac, stop it." 

"Did I miss something ?" Combeferre asked, looking at Enjolras's tense look and Courfeyrac's smug one.

"No." Enjolras said.

Courfeyrac laughed and leaned a bit, kissing him lightly on the nose. "Oh, Enjolras, you are so cute when you're in denial. Don't worry though, your secret is safe with me." 

 

_**4// On the hand** _

__

"I have to say," Bahorel breathed out, looking at Enjolras. "You got way better since last time." 

"You made me fall in less than ten minutes." Enjolras scolded. 

"Like I said," He grinned. "You got better." 

His friend stood up again, still frowning. His blond hair were falling messily around him and his tee-shirt were sticking to his torso. Bahorel looked at his flushed cheeks and angry breaths and crossed his arms on his chest. 

"Did some politician do something absolutely horrible that I don't know about yet ?" He asked. 

Enjolras looked up, startled : "What ?" 

"The last time you decided you wanted to fight against me like this was after the disastrous speech of Hollande. So, come on, spill out." 

"Nothing special happened." Enjolras answered. "The government is still as helpless as it can be but I asked you to fight with me because I need to learn to fight... Well, like you."

"You mean dirty ?" Bahorel smiled again. 

"It's definitely more useful if a protest goes wrong." Enjolras smiled back, less tense. 

"All right then. Come on, pretty boy. We're doing it again." 

"... We're..."

Enjolras had barely time to drop down to avoid Bahorel's fist. He gave him a dark look but wisely didn't try to speak again, concentrating instead on Bahorel's moves. 

It was Enjolras's greatest asset and flaw, of course : he was watching too much, trying to plan ahead what Bahorel was going to do next, when the trick was to forget to think and follow his instincts instead. Bahorel had learnt to fight in the streets a long time ago and he had made an art out of it, which meant that people usually had to be at least three to have a chance to win against him, these days. 

It wasn't as if Enjolras didn't know that - Bahorel's exploits certainly weren't a secret. He was usually a very good looser, asking for advice instead of sulking (like Feuilly always did). Today, though, it looked as if he was getting angrier and angrier by the minute, without any clear reason that Bahorel could understand. 

Finally, after a new trick from Bahorel, Enjolras seemed to completely loose his temper. He threw himself on his adversary furiously, ready to punch him with all he had, but Bahorel dodged him and his fist met the wall instead of Bahorel's chin, as it had been intended. 

Bahorel was pretty sure he had never heard Enjolras swore before. 

It was fascinating and terrifying to witness. 

"Man, what was that ?" He asked. 

"Fighting dirty, I guess." Enjolras spatted. "Didn't really go like I wanted."

"How's your hand ?"

"What do you think ?!'

Bahorel raised his eyebrow and thought to himself that it was probably a bad time to smile. So, obviously, he didn't try very hard to fight down the smirk that curled up on his lips, despite Enjolras's glare. 

"Gonna tell me what's got you so angry, now ?"

"Fuck you." Enjolras muttered. 

"Sorry man, you're pretty, but I'm not into dudes."

Enjolras pursed his lips together, looking as if he would gladly try to punch him again if hadn't had injured his hand. Bahorel took pity. He approached slowly from the other man and took his hand in his carefully. Thankfully, it didn't look broken, though it would definitely be hard to use in the days to come. 

"Should I do something in particular ?" Enjolras asked, watching him attentively.

Bahorel couldn't resist.

"No, I know exactly what to do, don't worry." He put briefly his lips on the back on the hand then grinned unashamedly at Enjolras. "There. All better !" 

Enjolras used his knee to hit him in a particularly sensible spot. 

 

 

_**+1 // On the lips.** _

 

To say that Grantaire was surprised when Enjolras sat down next to him would be an euphemism. Grantaire watched him bemused, and wondered frenetically if he had too much to drink again - hallucinations had happened, before. It was during a very bad time, yes, and it's been months since he had began (with difficulty) to reduce the drinking, but Enjolras was here, next to him, alone and he looked... Nervous, of all things. 

Enjolras never got nervous. 

"Am I hallucinating ?" He finally asked out loud. "Or is this just a dream, maybe ?" 

"I'm pretty sure this is reality." Enjolras said wryly. 

Grantaire looked at him briefly then lowered his eyes again on the pencil he was still holding between his fingers. That was when he saw the bandaged hand of his friend. 

"What the hell happened ?" He asked, horrified. 

"It's nothing." Enjolras shrugged. "I fought with Bahorel yesterday. I got a bit... overenthusiastic about it." 

"Overenthusiastic." Grantaire repeated flatly. "Okay. But you're all right ?"

"... Yes. Yes I am." Enjolras said, but there was a strange hesitation in his voice, which made Grantaire even more worried.

"Are you sure ?"

"I'm asexual." Enjolras blurted out.

Grantaire looked at him blankly.

"I know that." He said slowly.

"I need you to be okay with that." The other man insisted and - here - there was that familiar determination in his eyes again, the fire and the confidence that seemed to pour out of his whole being as soon as he started to speak of something that he cared about ; The exact confidence that had made Grantaire fall in love with him ages ago. "This is not something I can change. I don't need sex, I don't want it, and I will never be able to offer that to someone, no matter what kind of relationship we have."

"I know." Grantaire repeated, not even trying to hide the panicking tone of his voice, now. "Why are you... Why are you telling me this ?"

Had he become too obvious ? He asked himself, terrified. Was Enjolras here to tell him that they couldn't be friends anymore because he knew of Grantaire's feelings ?

"Because I'm going to kiss you now." Enjolras said resolutely.

Grantaire pinched himself. Enjolras moved closer and put his uninjured hand on Grantaire's arm. Then he breathed out slowly and whispered : "Please don't mock me for this. I'm afraid I lack experience." 

His lips were shy when they met Grantaire's. Grantaire didn't close his eyes, still afraid that Enjolras was going to disappear if he did so, but he certainly didn't want to miss his chance if everything was real (and dear god, it felt very real indeed, Enjolras was kissing him, god, god) so he raised his hand and, very slowly, grabbed Enjolras's chin between his fingers and kissed him back. 

It was obviously clumsy but _definitely_  perfect.

"Good ?" Enjolras asked, breathless, when they finally moved away from each other. 

"I think... I think you have things to explain." Grantaire answered, looking at him like he was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen in his life. "But yes, yes. Good. Very good. More than good, really."

Enjolras's smile almost blinded him. 


End file.
